Doctor Who_ Peacemaker - James Swallow [29]
The ground flattened out and the trail became better defined.
Martha had to admit that Nathan seemed to know his stuff. Even if she’d been walking, there was no way she would have spotted the shortcut through the hills, let alone guide mounted riders along it. It had taken them the best part of a day, with a couple of stops for shade and water, but he’d got them to Ironhill just as he promised. The only thing that bothered her was the teenager’s grim, morose expression.
She knew shock when she saw it; Martha had seen the same thing at the Royal Hope, when a doctor broke the news to someone that a loved one had died. Denial, refusal to believe the truth, anger. She could see all those emotions churning away behind Nathan’s haunted eyes. The boy would never have admitted it, but he was very fragile right now. It hadn’t even been a day since he lost his father, and he 72
was hiding his bereavement behind a wall of anger; but she also knew that she couldn’t force him. He’ll have to grieve in his own time, in his own way, she thought to herself.
They slowed to a gentle trot as they approached the edge of town.
A battered sign reading ‘Welcome To Ironhill’ arched over the main road. Faces turned to study them as they came closer.
At first glance, Ironhill didn’t seem a lot different to Redwater; the same kind of clapboard buildings, a dirt main street, wagons here and there and horses at hitching posts. But then Martha saw the grubby white sick tent isolated off at the far side of town; and then she took a good look at the people.
They had arrived at Redwater and found a town united in celebration after the defeat of an epidemic. Ironhill, on the other hand, was still reeling from the passing of the disease. Hollow-eyed, grim faces looked up at them from street corners and out of windows. The town had a derelict, ruined feel to it.
The scent of decay hung in the air along with the stringent chemical smell of harsh soap. Many buildings had been hastily boarded up, or they had makeshift red banners hanging outside in the limp breeze, marking the places where infection had been found.
She heard Nathan gasp. ‘Mother of mercy. They must’ve had it a lot worse than back home.’
The Doctor grimaced as they passed the undertakers, spotting a dead body in a casket as the lid was being nailed down. ‘It’s smallpox all right. That poor bloke had the scars on his face.’
They halted at the livery stable. Martha threw a nod towards the main street. ‘It’s weird, though. If this place was hit by an outbreak, then you’d think people would be keeping to themselves, staying in-doors.’ Wherever he looked, townsfolk were still coming and going.
She could even hear the mangled notes of a poorly played piano wafting out from a saloon toward the other end of town.
‘Maybe that’d be true back East,’ said Nathan, ‘but out here folks don’t like to admit they might be licked by something they can’t see.’
The Doctor nodded in agreement. ‘People always try to put a brave face on things, no matter how bad it gets.’ Nathan didn’t see the 73
Doctor glance at him and then to Martha.
‘So what next?’ she asked.
He dismounted with a twirl of his coat. ‘Nathan, if you would be so kind as to hitch up the horses. And then we’ll go see a man about a cure.’
Martha made a move to climb out of the saddle and then paused.
‘Now, how do I get down and still look ladylike?’
Nathan shook his head with a faint smirk. ‘ City folk. Huh.’ He offered her his hand. ‘Let me help you, Miss Martha.’
‘Howdy!’ The Doctor tipped his hat and smiled. ‘I do love this hat, you know. It’s a very fine hat indeed.’
The stableman, a bald, stocky chap in a stained leather apron, gave the Doctor an up-and-down look. ‘You’re not familiar to me,’ he noted.
‘No?’ he replied. ‘Well, don’t let that worry you. I’m very nice once you get acquainted with me. What’s that old saying? Strangers are just friends you don’t know yet.’
‘You’re drawin’ attention, that’s for sure,’ said the man.
He was right; nearby, the Doctor saw